The Yogi Wannabe
An ivy starts as a seedling within the surface of the earth. As the seed roots itself deeper into the ground, it begins to slowly sprout upwards and reveals itself as an idea of what could be. The sprout is something that is just starting to form, not yet having much impact to the environment it has been planted. Beside it is a tree. A big beautiful oak tree that has grown strong and bold over time. It has taken what it needs from the earth and its environment – not looking for more. This tree has withstood many storms all on its own and has offered shade and comfort to others. Along the way there has been an occasional broken branch or loss of leaves. However, the tree has always managed to mend itself and continue to persevere and grow. When receiving the nourishment needed, the ivy begins to grow and attach itself to the oak tree. With a little gentle guidance, the climbing plant begins to blanket the surface of the tree. The idea of what could be begins to take a form of its own and flourishes in the shade provided by the gentle sway of the tree’s branches. The tree is beautiful in itself. It has been doing just fine without the ivy, using the nourishment of the earth and soaking in the rays of the sun. It stands tall and strong in solitude. However, as the ivy takes to the tree, clinging and expanding, it gives the tree a gentle embrace and enhances the beauty that it has always possessed. The two share the space and the nourishment of their environment They support each other through the storms and shine bright in the sunlight.
Hi. My name is Erika. I do yoga but I am not a yogi. Am I? Or am I just a wannabe yogi? What exactly is a yogi anyway?
According to our friend Mr. Webster, the definition of a yogi is as follows:
1. a person who practices yoga.
2 capitalized. an adherent of Yoga philosophy.
3. a markedly reflective or mystical person.
My interpretations of a ‘yogi” has always fallen within the parameters of #3. Anyone considered a yogi is a mystical person. A yogi is someone who wears flowy skirts and tucks daisies in her hair. She is a free spirit who doesn’t shave her armpits. How shallow, right? Even if this was true, I am embarrassed at how utterly judgmental and catty it is. I did mention a lot of my friends were yogis, right? Not that it matters but none of them run around barefoot in flowy skirts among fields of daisies with braided armpits. Even if they did, they were still some of my favorite people in the whole world and if given the opportunity I would probably take a swig of whatever they were having and join in the fun. But for some reason and for longer than I care to remember, I just couldn’t get past the idea of who or what a yogi was and why I did not have what it took to be one.
Health and fitness are such an integral part of my day to day life, it is hard to imagine a time when it was a chore to go to the gym. But at one time, it was. Exercising was something I once did for the sole purpose of burning calories and aide in the ever-present desire to lose weight. At one time, exercise was only necessary for physical aspirations and my treasured social hour without my kids. As I progressed through adulthood, it became undeniably clear that a regular occurrence of physical activity is vitally essential to my overall well-being – body AND mind.
That 1+ hours of pushing myself as hard as I could forces me to focus on the task, allowing me to bury any anxiety and negativity deep inside. During times of Post-partum and SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder), the adrenaline from exerting myself brought out a feeling of being stronger than I considered myself and provided a sense of accomplishment when I left the class. I found that the high at the end of an intense cardio workout assisted in maintaining positive vibes throughout the day. My sore muscles were actually a welcome feeling of being on the right track to get through any hardship I was facing. As a bonus, working out tended to keep my eating habits in check.
As an obsessive calorie counter, I only sought the highest level of intensity training I could find. The difficulty level of the workout was the determining factor of how I felt when I left. As the results of the workout became apparent both physically and mentally, the harder I worked. If I ran, I ran hard. If I went for a walk, I took the path with the most hills. My favorite form of physical torture (errr… I mean… fitness) was always a good, hard-core group fitness class – body sculpt, kickboxing, indoor cycling, circuits, etc. The harder I sweat, the deeper I breathed, the higher the resistance I endured – the better I felt. Being in a class setting has a tendency to bring out the competitive drive to work harder and faster. Pushing you to compete with the person next to you and even the instructor at the front of the room. The goal being to keep up and take the beating harder than everyone else in the class. Or is that just me?
Somewhere along the way, I began recognizing how balanced I became mentally on those workout days. Tasks seemed to flow from one to the other. Panic due to overwhelming motherhood demands dimmed in comparison to the days I skipped my morning workout. The chore of hitting the gym became a necessity which then turned into a habit.
During this time, a lot of friends found their way to yoga. They boasted about how well it made them feel and the benefits of breathing and holding poses.
The first time I stepped on my yoga mat for an actual yoga class was about 10 years ago. I took that first class out of obligation to give my body a well-deserved break, a good stretch from the beatings I gave it 4-5 days a week. In my mind, yoga did not qualify as a work out in the terms of how I viewed a work out to be. Nor did I see how it would provide the physical results I felt my body needed. My sister and I were fairly regular participants in a Sunday morning class that we affectionately referred to as our church. I liked it, I recognized my body felt good at the end but the attraction to attending was directly related to the company I was keeping and the coffee we tended to have at the conclusion of class. I was not invested as I was in my other classes therefore, I found myself just going through the motions.
Even without 100% commitment to the practice, I did recognize and appreciate how it stretched my body and marveled at the lightness I felt during the post yoga high. However, I still struggled with shutting down my mind as I thought was essential to “be a yogi”. I would lay in Savasana, mind racing from one topic to another, anxiously waiting for the teacher to tell us to wiggle our fingers and toes. Criticizing myself for the inability to do what everyone else seemingly had the innate ability to do. To me, the workout was done and it was time to get on with my day. I had held the poses. I had inhaled. I had exhaled. It was time to move on. At the conclusion of class, as we collected ourselves into a seated position with our eyes closed, I secretly prayed the instructor would not guide us to the “ohm” at the end of class. This practice always made me a little uncomfortable and antsy. No, yoga was not my first choice in fitness and where other classes had turned into a habit. Yoga remained a chore.
Somewhere along my journey to lose weight, my mind made a shift to exploring optimal overall health. It began with focusing on various physical health issues I faced and how what I was eating manifested into how I was feeling. That physical change morphed into a practice of understanding my mental health and how both the food I was ingesting and the way I moved my body were necessary to healing my mind as well as my body. This pivoting thought process was eye opening and explained so much about various challenges I had faced throughout my life. I began to gain control of those habits and made them work for me. It wasn’t that I no longer cared about my weight, but when I took the emphasis off my size and directed it to how I felt, an amazing, unexpected result occurred. I lost weight and felt great. My new mindful approach to how I took care of myself lead me to take another stab at practicing yoga. This time, I went in with an open mind and a desire to discover what there was behind the flows and the balances. What exactly was there to love about yoga?
The first month, I concentrated on the cues of the poses. Perfecting my stance, aligning my body and breathing. By focusing on the poses and perfecting how I was executing them, I stopped thinking about the fact that I was doing yoga. By breathing when instructed, “inhale – reach up, exhale – reach back”, it became apparent of how the breath helped me move and progress in my poses. And I was progressing! I could feel myself getting stronger. I felt my body naturally adjusting before the teacher’s cues. Challenges were different in a yoga class than a cardio class but not any less gratifying. I was now learning to balance with the strength of my core and focus on my muscles to stabilize my stance. Flexibility that I once had as a child, gradually found its way back to my body with an ease that was unexpected and rewarding. Suddenly, my workouts were centered around me and not the people around me. Before I knew it, I was looking forward to my Thursday morning class. Even the act of laying in the stillness of Savasana no longer felt like torture, it was actually a gift and a welcome closing to my practice. And I still had the gratification of feeling sore. Yoga is indeed a workout. Even though my heart wasn’t pumping as long and hard as it did in my spin class, I could still feel that I had worked hard and my body was reaping the benefits in more ways than just trimming up. The back discomfort that I dismissed as just part of getting older began to diminish. I had found a new balance in my workout routine. But I still wouldn’t call myself a yogi.
I have said things like “yeah, I can do wheel, but I won’t do any of the tricks” – I can feel my yogi friends cringing at the “tricks” comment. Yeah, I see you! That is how I saw the crows and headstands – heck, I still kind of see them that way. Balances and inversions that take your feet off the ground often remind me of a circus act. It has taken me 2 years of regular practice to finally begin to work my feet off the ground into crow. I am not saying that I have ever actually found the pose, but I have tried… twice. For now, that is okay with me and fine with my teachers. These poses are not a necessity of getting the most of your yoga class. It is funny though how something that was once so intimidating and a “no way” in my practice, is now getting gentle consideration.
While on the topic of how I still think of yoga that goes against my definition of “yogi”. Twister. There are still times during a class that I feel myself chuckle as an instructor guides me through poses. “Right foot forward. Left hand up. Find the twist.” All I can picture is the big colored circles below me and the childhood joy that game brought. But I digress….
One of the most surprising finds through my practice is my draw to the philosophy behind yoga (ah hem – see #2 in definition). My favorite teachers will often slip these bits into their classes. Stories behind the poses, myths of goddesses, moments from their own life and poems or stories that are reflective of living a life through the eyes of a yogi. I find these extras to be the highlight of the class. They are what truly complete my practice and make me realize I was actually born with the ideals of a yogi. The messages of kindness, mindfulness and gratitude feel like home. They are messages that I feel I have always searched for in order to make sense of the crazy world we live in. And here they have always been, in a practice that I once considered “not for me”.
This self-described yogi-wannabe has recently found herself craving the practice. Looking forward to daily classes and missing the guided practice on days that I don’t find my way to the studio. As an added bonus, the breathing that is so prevalent during class has appeared in my day-to-day. When the kids are just too much and work is overwhelming, the deep inhales and exhales center me. They help me cope and put everything into perspective. And that is when I yearn for more. More release. More challenges. More yoga. With every pose I take, the more the practice becomes a part of who I am. And I love it. Even during times when life takes an unexpected turn, my practice seems to take over and I am able to accept the ebb and flow of my emotions with more grace and patience than ever before. The new appreciation for the strength and flexibility of my body has brought me more joy than intense workouts ever did. I truly feel like yoga has provided me the ability to accept and admire the person I have always been, in turn giving me the ability to be better than I ever imagined. Just as the tree was doing fine weathering the storms without the ivy, I too was surviving without yoga. However, I am flourishing with the gentle embrace and support the practice has brought to my life.
If you look back at #1 in Webster’s definition, a yogi is simply someone who practices yoga. Guess what! I practice yoga! Maybe I am a yogi after all.